


Baby Blue

by Curlew



Category: Starsky and Hutch - Fandom
Genre: First Time, M/M, Origin Story, Pre series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:14:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25291498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curlew/pseuds/Curlew
Summary: Origin story. Historically possible, I promise!
Relationships: Ken Hutchinson and other male character
Comments: 17
Kudos: 20





	Baby Blue

“Will you come on! We don’t want to be late!”

There was a clatter of feet on the stairs, then a scrum by the door as people gathered coats and hats and scarves.

“Ready?”

“What about ...”

“I asked him- he said he had a paper to write’

‘Really? I’m in all the same classes as him and I haven’t got a paper to write”

“Oh, what does it matter- maybe he’s been accelerated”

A shout of laughter, then 

“I’ll just go check....”

“Forget it, Jace - i said I asked him and I’m not waiting for you. If we’re not fast all the best girls will be taken. And look- I’ve got something to grease the wheels”

He pulled a bottle half out of his pocket with a grin to whistles of delighted astonishment.

“Vodka! Where did you get that?”

“Not what you know, sport, it’s who you know. En avant, mes braves!”

A draft of snow-heavy night air, a slammed door, a car starting, then silence. 

The remaining member of the dorm straightened in the high backed chair where he had been sitting unnoticed, and sighed. He had said many things he regretted over the past six weeks, but of all of them he wished the word “accelerated” had never passed his lips. It had been that, or be called a liar about his two years in the Peace Corps - right now he reckoned being thought a liar would be preferable. His dorm mates found the whole thing hilarious, and brought it up as frequently as possible - to the extent that he found himself speaking up in class less, conscious of the hazing that would follow. And with every class, every question he didn’t answer, every solitary evening, the cold ball of misery at his core grew.

For the twentieth time he took the folded flyer out of his pocket, and read it. He had assumed by this stage in the semester he’d have someone to go with, but it looked like on his own or nothing. He wasn’t used to city life, and the idea of finding his way across town and going into the place alone was daunting. But, he told himself firmly, he was going to have to get used to it. 

He put the guard carefully round the fire, went to find his coat and resolutely set out into the night. His spirits lifted a little - the swirling snow reminded him of home - then plummeted as it turned to dirty slush hitting the pavement. He almost turned back but resolutely trudged on, until his feet were wet, his hands frozen and his mood rock bottom. And then he saw it. In a row of dark shops one lighted, steamed up window, and muffled but exciting, the sound of music. He walked past the door several times then opened the door, to be met with an intoxicating mixture of smoke, coffee, and cheap scent, sweat, virtuoso guitar playing and a voice like nothing he had ever heard before. Rasping and almost tuneless but enthralling.. And the singer. The singer was only a little older than himself, his hair a riot of unmanageable curls, his face Pan-like, strong nose, three cornered mouth and deep, deep dark blue eyes. The voice and face touched him in ways and places unknown to him. He stumbled to a table, ordered coffee, and just listened and stared, his loneliness and misery forgotten. 

An uncountable time later, he came to himself to find the cafe emptying. And standing in front of him, hand outstretched, was the singer. 

“Hi. I’m Robert’

Flushing and tongue tied, he stammered “I know” then cursed himself for his awkwardness.

A laugh, as rasping and individual as the voice.

“You liked my music,”

“Liked it! It was.....stupendous!”

“You play?”

“An hour ago I would have said yes. Not any more”

A shrug. 

“You play your music - I play mine. Come back to my van? I’ve got some good ....ah, no. Some good..... coffee”

“I haven’t told you my name”

“Figured you didn’t want to. That’s cool. As some cat said, what’s in a name? Coming?”

The singer raised an eyebrow.

“I-I-lt’s Ken”

“Coming, Ken?”

As if hypnotized, Ken stood up and followed the singer through the dingy cafe kitchen. feeling as if he was stepping into another life. 

“Thanks, Robert. Next week?”

“I’ll get back to you on that. Might be moving on. Can you throw in some food with that money?”

The cafe owner packed a paper sack with leftovers and poured two mugs of coffee. 

“Remember, be out of here before dawn”

“All cool, Marco. Come on, Ken”

Ken, head swimming, stepped out of the back door into the swirling snow. By the light of a single streetlight, he could see a VW bus parked in a far corner, a candle lantern burning in the window. Robert looked up at him with a lopsided grin. 

“Home sweet home. Not what you’re used to, I reckon”

‘What do you mean?”

“Well, you’re not exactly from this side of the street, are you?” 

He opened the door of the van, and stood back for Ken to climb in. The interior was bitterly cold, but bright with fabric and smelling pleasantly of patchouli

“Take your shoes off and let’s eat. Marco’s stuff is good”

He shared out the food then pulled a rug over them as they leaned back against the cushions. Robert ate hungrily, but Ken was in too much of a whirl to eat, so he sipped at the hot strong coffee. 

“I’ve seen you on campus. Fresher, right?”

”Yeah. Pre-med”

“Going for the big bucks. Figures”

Ken felt a flash of anger.

“No. I want to help people”

“You don’t help people by becoming the Man, man”

Too late Ken remembered what had happened when he had said the same thing in front of his classmates, and dropped his eyes, biting down on his lip.

“I won’t” His voice broke on the words.

“If you stay on that road you will. They put your feet on it when you were born. Longer you walk it, the fewer crossroads there are”

To his chagrin, Ken felt his eyes fill with tears.

Robert put his hand out to lift his chin, and his voice unexpectedly gentled.

“Hey, kid-someone’s sure done a number on you. Who was it, your folks?”

Before he could reply, Robert leaned forward, and touched Ken’s lips with his. Caught completely by surprise, Ken leapt back, horrified, cracking his head on the roof, then scrambled for his shoes.

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have....oh, God, I must have given you the wrong idea....I should go.....”

Robert shrugged.

“No sweat. And no wrong or right idea. Barely even a kiss. But go if you want. Be a shame to waste this good food though”

“I’m not.....”

“Connecting is good. Connecting can be love or lust or liking or need. Or want. An eternity or a grain of sand. And it feels as if connecting is something you need right now. It’s your call”

Slowly Ken sank back against the cushions and nerved himself to look up to meet those unfathomable deep blue eyes, now crinkled with laughter.

“I don’t know...”

“You’re closed up tighter than a clam. Maybe you need to give a little”

“Give?”

“Yeah. If you don’t give you can’t take. Then it’s just you all alone in the world”

“How do you know all this?”

“I think I was born knowing all this. Maybe everyone is. It’s just finding the way to tell it”

He leant forward, and his lips were warm on Ken’s again. This time, he didn’t pull back. Somehow this stranger and this van and the swirling snow outside made a new world where the only thing to do was to lean into the kiss and return it. This time it was Robert who drew back. 

“What you want, what you need. No more, no less, OK?”

“I don’t know....I don’t know what I think”

Again the lopsided smile.

“Reckon you do too much thinking. How about you try feeling for a change? Just for tonight?”

This time it was Ken who initiated the kiss, then, greatly daring, slid his arms round Robert’s slight shoulders.

“Maybe you’re cracking open a little”

“I don’t know what to do”

“Do what feels good and so will I. Nothing can go wrong then”

The van was small and Ken was tall, and it took a few maneuvers before they found a way to lie on the narrow cushions, pulling the rug up against the chill. The candlelight flickered, and Robert caught his breath as it highlighted his companion’s blond beauty.

“I’d like to touch you. Would you like that?”

“I-I-I don’t know..”

Robert’s fingers whispered down Ken’s chest and stomach, then hesitated at his waist.

“Looks like your cock knows....”

“Robert, I...”

“What you want, babe, what you want”

Ken took Robert’s hand and drew it downwards. It was warm despite the chill of the air, but he still shivered as it slid questioningly to his button and zip.. His brain was a whirl of conflict, but his cock was very sure of what it wanted, springing free as the zip came down. Robert’s hand was strong as it folded round his erection, he could feel the rough hardness of the guitar player’s fingers, and thought that his own hand would feel like that to Robert when he.....and then he stopped thinking and for the first time in his life he was doing something he wanted without thinking about shoulds and oughts and consequences and for the first time in his life nobody knew where he was or what he was doing, and it was freeing and right and wonderful and wholly magical to be here with Robert in this van in the snow.

A long time later, they became conscious of cramp and cold and cricked necks and wriggled around until they were comfortable. Robert reached into a cupboard and produced a fifth of bourbon. He held it out to Ken, laughing at his hesitation.

‘Guess you haven’t had this before either. Don’t worry, you’re a quick study’

They took turns, Ken’s heightened senses delighting in both the strong sweet spirit, and in sharing the bottle, lips touching where lips had touched in a little communion.

“You said you were moving on. Where are you going?”

“New York. That’s where it’s at. Greenwich Village”

“What about college?”

“What about it? Tried it. Don’t like it”

“But...”

“They don’t like the things I want to read - I don’t like the things they want me to read. There’s no fixing that so it’s time I split”

The bottle passed between them again, and Robert leaned over to kiss him.

“How about it, baby blue - wanna come along?”

For a whole disorientating minute, Ken thought he could. Then he knew he couldn’t, and shook his head. Robert smiled.

“I’ll write you a song. Listen out for it. Not for Robert Zimmerman though, I’m leaving him behind”

“Who am I listening for?”

‘Bob...not sure what else’

“Dylan” Ken heard himself say, the name coming from nowhere. 

“I like that. And I like that you named me.This is Robert Zimmerman’s last night”

Ken smiled “Can I kiss him goodbye?”

They kissed very tenderly then Bob took Ken’s face in his hands. “Stop giving yourself a hard time, and stop letting other people give you a hard time. Build your own ladder- then you can reach your own stars” 

“I’ll try”

“No one can do more than that, baby blue”


End file.
